I waited, my back to him sternly, until the door closed reasonably behind him.
This is what I’m left with.
* * *
—
I STUDIED THE PICTURE OF MY FATHER AND DANIEL, wondering what would have happened that last morning if I had turned to my son and opened my arms.
I glanced at my watch. Eleven thirty. Eight thirty in Port Furlong. I picked up my cell and called Peter. His wife, Elaine, answered. She inquired after my aunt with her usual warm concern, and I asked about the girls.
“I know Peter wants to talk with you,” she said, “but he’s out right now.”
“Without his cell?”
“He was distracted when he left. You know, all that political stuff with the superintendent. I don’t really follow it, but he’s pretty riled up. Had another one of those meetings tonight. Thought he’d be home by now. Do you want him to call when he gets in? I know it’s late back there.”
I told her I’d be up another half hour, and we said our good-byes. My bags still needed packing, and I gathered my belongings, thinking how Peter and Newland were probably fighting over the budget again. I had turned out the light and was nearly asleep when the phone rang.
“Sorry for calling so late,” Peter said. “In my defense, Elaine told me to, and I always do what she says.”
“I’m glad you did,” I said, sitting up, trying to sound awake. “What’s going on with Newland?”
“That really what you want to talk about this time of night?”
“No. Not really.”
He let me collect my thoughts, the line giving off a low buzz. “I’ve been struggling with Daniel’s last day,” I said. “Would you mind a few questions?”
I heard a soft sigh, then, “No. Of course not.”
“You talked to him that last afternoon, right?”
“Only in passing. I ran into him after classes. He was on his way to practice, and I asked how the team was shaping up. Nothing much to it.”
“Was he agitated? Anything like that?” We’d been over this before, likely many times, but Peter stayed patient with me.
“He was distracted. Kind of blew me off, said he was running late, which wasn’t really like him. Nothing that made me worried for him, though, just a sense he had something on his mind.”
I let the line go silent.
“I’m sorry that I don’t have more for you.”
“What about Evangeline?”
“Evangeline? What about her?”
“You thought you saw her with the boys. You were certain. Then you changed your mind. What do you think now?”
“Isaac, I told you, it wasn’t Evangeline. The person I saw was too tall. It had to be Derek.”
Again I wanted to tell Peter about the bracelet, the pregnancy, all Evangeline had admitted. And all she had not. Once more, something held me back. “So you don’t think Evangeline had anything to do with the boys?”
“I really don’t.”
An edge of frustration had crept into his voice. He was likely exhausted from a rough meeting with the superintendent. Then it occurred to me. “This thing with Newland, is it about Evangeline?”
A moment of dead air. “Why would it be?”
“The forms. The ones that don’t always get inputted. Did he find out somehow?”
“No. Nothing to do with Evangeline.” He took a breath, then the start of a word, then silence. He coughed, and it sounded thick, like he might be ill. “I’ve heard she’s catching up in her classes. Everything appears to be working out.”
“It is,” I said.
“I know you probably have to get up early . . . so unless there’s something else . . .”
“No, nothing else.”
“Okay,” he said. “Get some rest and don’t worry about your classes. Fuentes is doing fine. We’ll see you when you get back.”
* * *
—
I HAD TROUBLE SLEEPING THAT NIGHT. Every day there seemed to be a new mystery. Not only about my son and the girl but about generations of Balch men. About the mystery of one person reaching toward another.
The mystery of whether a life can turn on a single touch given or withheld.
40
Evangeline was unlocking the back door after school when a voice came from behind. “We need to talk.”
She spun around. Lorrie sat in a patio chair, overgrown shrubs having blocked her from view as Evangeline approached. “Jesus! That’s a shitty thing to do.”
Lorrie stood and said, “Shittier than lying about not being here? Shittier than ignoring someone bringing you food?”
“I wasn’t here! I have friends, you know.” Evangeline heard how childish she sounded, and she looked away, which was as much of a concession as she was willing to make.
Lorrie studied her. “Of course you have friends.” Her tone had softened, like she was sad Evangeline had to lie about such a thing, and this made Evangeline want to shout, I do have friends, I do. I was at Natalia’s house on Saturday. But she’d only be defending one lie while confirming another.
“Let me come in, okay?”
Evangeline turned, then stopped, said, “Hey. Why wasn’t Rufus going bonkers with you out here?”
“Rufus never barks at me when the house is empty. No one to protect, I guess. That’s how I knew you were here last night.”
Evangeline’s face was burning as they entered the kitchen. Once inside, Lorrie asked if she wanted tea or a glass of milk, as if this were Lorrie’s house and Evangeline the unexpected guest.
“Tea sounds nice.”
Lorrie was an ocean wave, a gravitational force you would cede to in the end, and Evangeline decided to give in early, felt calmer for relinquishing control.
Once they were seated with their teas, Lorrie said, “This is about Jonah, isn’t it? You didn’t know I was his mother?”
Evangeline nodded.
Lorrie’s mouth went slack. “So. You did know Jonah?”
“Wait. What? But you knew. Didn’t you? You were fishing just now?”
She half smiled. “I had a hunch. I’d heard the rumor about Rebekah Miller but never believed it. I’m not sure why. I don’t know her at all, but she doesn’t seem like a girl Jonah would fall for. When I met you, my first thought was that Jonah would have liked you. Then your reaction with Nells.”
Evangeline let out a breath. “I only met Jonah a few times.”
Lorrie gazed at her tea. “Sometimes it only takes once.”
Evangeline didn’t know if she was talking about love or sex or something else entirely. “Did Isaac tell you anything more about me? Other than about me being pregnant, I mean.”
“No. He didn’t tell me about your pregnancy either, not exactly. I figured it out. He was concerned about your health and nutrition.”
“Isaac’s a bastard,” Evangeline said, her heart not in it.
“For being concerned about your health?”
“Not that. I don’t know. I feel like he set us up.”
“Does he know about you and Jonah?”
“He asked me about him.”
“About Jonah? Why?”
Evangeline fidgeted with her cup. “I’m not sure.”